Kael’s POVA razor of antiseptic hit me the moment I pushed through the hospital’s glass doors, it was a clean, clinical air that tasted like bleach and fear. It clung to my jacket, bitter and metallic, nicking at every breath until my throat felt raw.I hated hospitals. Always had. They reeked of endings, of weakness, of time’s theft from even the strongest men.But I forced myself forward, boots striking the polished tile with sharp, deliberate echoes. Nurses glanced up, then leaned toward each other in hushed murmurs; their gossip prickled against my back, but I kept my face carved from stone. They knew who I was. Of course they did… the rich heir of the Draven family.At the corridor’s end, my father’s door stood half-open, a pale rectangle of light pouring from inside like a stage lamp. I froze, palm inches from the handle, chest tightening with grief braided with anger. Then I shoved it open.The sight hollowed me out.Draven, the mountain of a man whose voice once made enemies
Last Updated : 2025-11-06 Read more